A Brother's Mission
by Clowns or Midgets
Summary: When Dean and Castiel disappear after killing Dick Roman, Sam knows it's going to take sacrifice to get them back. After an appointment with Doctor Robert that is almost his last, he finds someone to help. In return for joining a fight against the King of Hell he can have twenty-four hours in Purgatory to find his brother and friend. Will it be enough time? Canon Bang 2019 Entry
1. Chapter 1

**Welcome to my offering for the Canon Big Bang. This is a much shorter story than my usual, but I enjoyed writing it and hope you will enjoy reading. The idea for the story came from a prompt by Shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod. She kindly said I could use it for the Bang and she's been wonderfully patient in waiting for my posting day to come around. **

**This story was skillfully beta'd by captainhaterade who trimmed down my run-on sentences and placed all the commas I missed. VegasGranny and Ncsupnatfan pre-read and gave great insight and encouragement. Thank you all xxx**

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_**Chapter One**_

One day after Dick Roman was killed, one day after Dean and Castiel disappeared, long enough for Sam to make the Impala roadworthy and find a crossroads, Sam tamped down the dirt over his offering and stepped back.

He had the demon knife in his jacket pocket, ready to use, but he hoped he wouldn't need to. He wanted a demon that was going to cooperate, deal, not to kill. A dead demon would give him nothing.

"Come on," he muttered. "Get out here."

"Impatient, aren't you?"

Sam spun on his heel and saw the man standing behind him. He was olive-skinned and his hair was inky black in the moonlight. His thin lips bore a smirk and his red eyes were amused as they looked Sam up and down.

"Winchester. I was wondering if you'd end up on my doorstep. What can I do for you?"

"If you were expecting me, you already know," Sam said. "I want my brother and Castiel back. I want to know where Kevin is."

The demon chuckled. "Big asks for one little soul. Want to narrow it down a little?"

Sam had expected it, and he had his answer ready, but he hated it. It was only knowing that if Dean and Castiel were here they would be able to get Kevin back that enabled him to give it. "I want Dean and Castiel."

"Thought so. You made the right choice. Even I can't deal for the prophet. It's the King that's got him, and not even your soul is worth the swap for him. Not that you've got much of a soul left anyway. Lucifer really did a good job on you."

Sam crossed his arms over his chest as if that could protect him from the demon's words. He knew that his soul was ruined, and that tore him apart, that something so vital as a whole and healthy soul had been taken from him when he was in the Cage, but it mattered less than the reason he was here.

"I want Dean and Castiel back. Their lives for mine. It's a good deal."

"You really think so? Two lives for one?"

Sam glowered. "One _Winchester._"

"In exchange for another _Winchester_"—he infected the word with derision—"and an angel. That's not a deal I can make. Pick one."

Sam had expected that, too, though he'd dreaded it, and he knew which he had to choose. There was no choice really. It was only ever going to be Dean.

"Dean."

The demon chuckled. "That was fast. I thought you liked the angel."

Sam didn't answer. Castiel was family, but Dean was his brother, and that won out over everything else; it always would. Sam had turned away from him in the past and he'd learned his lesson.

The demon walked forwards and circled him. Sam didn't turn to watch him; he kept his back straight and eyes on the Impala where he had parked it on the side of the road.

"The goods are top quality, even if the soul isn't," the demon said, coming to a stop in front of him. "The kiss would be something. I heard from Ruby that you had skills."

Sam's jaw tightened. He knew Ruby hadn't told this demon anything, as the only demon she ever had contact with that wasn't hostile was Lilith. This was just the demon's way of mocking him, reminding him of his past mistake with its probably-faked lust.

The demon clapped his hands together. "So it's a straight swap, I get you Dean back and you go to the pit?"

"Yes."

He nodded slowly. "I'm tempted, I admit, but… I can't do it."

Sam's careful control broke and his eyes widened as he begged, "Please! You have to!"

"No can do. See, Dean isn't upstairs or down. I can't get him back that easy. I'm only a demon."

"Where is he then?" Sam asked.

"That would be telling."

Sam pulled the knife from his pocket, making the motion a threat in itself, and grabbed the demon's shoulder. With a smooth movement, he brought the knife to the demon's throat and said, "If he's not in Heaven or Hell, where is he?" A hopeful idea occurred to him. "Is he alive?"

The demon didn't pull back or try to break Sam's hold, though he probably could. He just tilted his head to the side and said, "You have to ask nicely."

"Where the hell is he?"

The demon chuckled. "I don't know. I just know he's out of my bounds. The boss knew you'd come, you Winchesters are predictable, and he said I can have all the fun I like but no deals we can't keep. Bad for the reputation."

Sam's teeth clenched as he resisted the urge to drive the knife through the demon's throat. He wanted it dead, but he wanted help more. He thought the demon could help, even if it didn't know himself where they were. He would take its taunts and malice if it gave him an answer.

"I want to speak to Crowley then," he said. "He knows where they are."

Crowley had said God weapons had a kick and there had been more in his eyes that he wasn't saying. If he hadn't been more interested in getting Kevin away, he would have probably stuck around to mock a little longer, perhaps giving Sam more of a clue.

"The boss isn't taking visitors right now, especially not you. He's busy with the prophet."

"Fix a meeting and I won't kill you!"

The demon shrugged. "You won't kill me anyway."

Sam pressed the knife in a little and it broke the skin of the demon's throat. A small spark lit the wound and a trickle of blood dripped down. "I really will."

The demon shoved its hands against Sam's chest, knocking him down onto the ground, his back hitting the dirt with a jarring impact that made his teeth snap together.

"I can't kill you since the boss wants that pleasure for himself, in his own time, of course— I think you amuse him—but I can do this!"

He kicked Sam in the gut, making him curl over himself as the breath whooshed out of him and pain exploded.

Sam forced away the pain, reminded himself he'd had worse in his life, and snapped out the blade and drove it into the demon's calf. The demon hadn't expected it, and he shouted in pain as blood began to flow. Sam twisted the knife and then withdrew it and got quickly to his feet as the demon staggered back.

"Fix the meeting or next time it's your heart!"

The demon hissed between its teeth. "Do you really think you're going to get more from Crowley than you will me? He's going to enjoy your misery and tell you nothing."

Sam considered for a moment. Crowley would give him nothing except, perhaps, a slow death if Sam pushed him hard enough. Sam needed someone stronger and more reasonable than the King of Hell to talk to. He could think of one person, and calling him reasonable would probably a stretch. In fact, he was just as likely to squash Sam like a bug as Crowley was, but what other choice did he have? He needed to know where Dean and Castiel were, and there was no more powerful being on earth.

Sam fixed his eyes on the demon and prepared to kill, but before he could act, the demon's head was flying back and black smoke was pouring from its mouth and into the air. As the last of it left its host, the man it had been possessing dropped back to the ground. Sam quickly bent beside him and checked for a pulse but there was none. He was dead and probably had been for a while.

Sam sighed as he straightened up. He would put a call in to the police to report the body when he was far enough away, so the man might at least be reunited with his family. That was all he could do.

He walked back to the Impala and climbed in behind the wheel in what should be Dean's seat. He told himself it was temporary, Dean would be back soon and Sam would ride shotgun, but as he turned the key in the ignition and the engine came to life, he wondered. The being he was going to next might help him, and that was only the slimmest chance, but it might come at the cost of his life, anyway.

He wasn't called Death for nothing.

* * *

As much as Sam wanted to speak to Death, he also knew he had to play it smart. If he tried to bind him again as he and Dean had before, he was going to be killed before he could get more than the first words of the incantation out—he had been warned, after all.

He had to find a different way, and that meant dying.

Sam had no one he could trust to bring him back if he did it himself, so he had to go for help from someone he only had the smallest amount of faith in. If the circumstances were any different, if he could think of someone else, he would never do it. But he was completely alone now—just as Crowley had said he was—which is how he found himself pulling up in front of a supermarket in Chinatown and climbing out of the Impala.

He'd gotten the address from his father's journal and knew Doctor Robert had still been there last year, when Dean had visited for his own meeting with Death. So as he entered and went to the counter, the question of where to find the doctor of his lips, Sam was hopeful.

The man behind the counter gave Sam a glance and then pointed through a door at the end of the long store and said, "Upstairs," before returning to his task of unpacking a box of hamburger.

Sam followed his directions through the door and went up a flight of stairs into a dingy and dimly lit hall with doors leading off of it. It wasn't the most reassuring place to come for any reason, let alone medical care, but he supposed the rent must be cheap and, after losing his license, Doctor Robert was on a tight budget.

He found the right door and knocked. It was opened by a slim young woman with dark bangs and dressed all in black. Sam smiled at her but she didn't return it. She just tugged him into the room by his sleeve and slammed the door closed behind him.

A white-coated man with glasses, grey hair and beard beamed in greeting and said, "Sam Winchester. It's good to see you. I haven't seen you since you were a kid watching your daddy get ten stitches in his back after something nasty got him. You must have been, what, eleven? I was sure you were going to faint. I saw your brother recently, of course, but that was for… Well, what can I do for you?"

"I want to die," Sam said.

Doctor Robert nodded enthusiastically. "Then you came to the right place. I did your brother only a year ago, and that went well."

The young woman raised an eyebrow but the Doctor pointedly ignored the gesture. "It's cheap to die, but coming back can be pricey."

Sam took the envelope from his jacket pocket and handed it over. It contained all the money he'd had in his wallet, plus the emergency stash he and Dean kept tucked in the barrel of the grenade launcher—to use Dean's words, _"It might as well be useful for something."_

"So, why are you dying?" Doctor Robert asked as Sam followed his gestured instructions and took off his jacket and sat down on the padded table.

"I need to speak to someone."

The doctor nodded knowingly as the woman pushed Sam down roughly and inserted a needle into the crook of his arm.

Doctor Robert drew something from a vial into a syringe and tapped it, then squirted the excess into the air. It smelled medicinal and Sam knew that it was what was going to kill him.

The young woman tugged up Sam's t-shirt and placed electrodes on his chest then stepped back and crossed her arms over her chest.

"If you're ready…" Doctor Robert said.

Sam nodded. "Let's get it done."

"I should warn you: I do have a twenty-five percent mortality rate with this."

"That's fine," Sam said. "As long as you make sure I'm in the seventy-five percent, I won't have to haunt you."

The doctor chuckled. "Winchester humor. I forgot how pure it could be."

Before Sam could say anything else, he felt the warmth and weight spreading up his arm as the doctor injected the drug that would stop his heart. His eyes didn't fog or blur. One moment he was looking around with perfect clarity, the next he was dead.

* * *

**So… Sam went with the Winchester tradition of dying for his brother. That's the kind of commitment I like in my stories. **

**Until next time… **

**Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you so much Captainhaterade for beta'ing and VegasGranny and Ncsupnatfan for pre-reading. Thank you all for giving this story a chance xxx**

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_**Chapter Two**_

Sam found himself in the store he'd entered only minutes before. It was empty of all but a dark-skinned woman with curly hair and timeless eyes. She looked him up and down and said, "Winchesters. You have no respect for the sanctity of life. You're like serial killers with one victim."

Sam had no time to chat, so he launched into his request. "I need to see Death."

She smirked and said, "He's busy."

Sam hadn't expected it to be easy, and he'd come prepared to sacrifice his dignity to get what he needed from her. "Please. It's important. It's a matter of…"

"Life and death?" she suggested. "So is my entire existence."

"Please," Sam pleaded. "I haven't got long."

"No? You assume you're not sticking around? Would it surprise you that I was sent with instructions to reap you?"

Sam froze. He'd known it was a risk, but he'd also known that he he'd dodged this bullet before and had hoped he would again.

"It does," she said. "That's interesting."

"Then reap me, but let me talk to him first."

Perhaps Death would give him a pass, perhaps not. Either way, Sam had nothing to lose anymore. His only chance was to try to speak to him.

"Sure, I'll call him; I just hope his cell phone is charged." She rolled her eyes. "Really, Sam, how do you think I'm supposed to talk to him? It's not like we have lines of communication that work both ways. He wants us, he makes himself heard. I can't page him."

"There has to be a way!"

She began to laugh, then cut off abruptly as a deep and measured voice said, "That will do, Billie."

Sam spun around and saw Death leaning on his cane behind him. He had the world-weary look in his eyes Sam had seen when he'd returned his soul, but the frustration in the lines around his mouth told Sam Death was just as unamused to be here as he'd been the last time he'd seen him. Sam knew at once that he'd done the right thing not trying to bind him.

"I need help," he said quickly. "Dean and Cas are gone. They killed Dick Roman and something happened after. They just disappeared. I'm not sure if they're alive or dead, but they're not in Heaven or Hell; at least that's what a demon told me. I have to get them back and I need you…"

Death held up a hand to halt his flow of words, and Sam fell silent, his breaths coming fast.

"I already know why you are here," Death said.

"Can you help me?" Sam asked, trying to keep the desperation from his voice.

Death considered him for a moment. "I can, or perhaps it should be _will_, help. To an extent. I can at least tell you where they are. They are not technically dead, and they're most definitely not in Heaven or Hell. They went somewhere else."

"Where?" Sam asked.

Death gave a heavy sigh. "They were taken by the aftershock of killing Dick Roman—or the creature calling itself that. Its true name is far more ancient than that of the form he took. Tell me, Sam, where do you think they are? Where would that shockwave take Dick Roman's essence."

"Purgatory," Sam said without hesitation. "But…" His mouth dropped open as horror filled him. "They're in Purgatory!"

Death nodded.

Through his horror, Sam felt a prickle of relief. If they were in Purgatory, there was a way to get them back. He just needed to do the spell Castiel had used.

"I need another eclipse," he said. "Can you do that for me?"

Death's lips quirked into a smile. "Really, Sam, do you think I would allow that to happen a third time, for the wall to be broken down between worlds? Once was enough. I only allowed it a second time to empty your angel friend of the souls, and that was not done properly. I won't enable it again."

"Please," Sam begged. "I'll do anything."

Billie scoffed. "Because a human has so much to offer."

Death shot her a quick look and she fell silent, though there was a look in her eyes that told Sam she wasn't as obedient as she was pretending.

"Even if I did grant you another eclipse, if I found you the blood that was needed, it would not help you. It's not a door you can walk through that will be created. It's just a window that the souls can pass through like light."

"Then what do I do?" Sam asked, his heart aching with hopelessness.

"There are other ways," Death said. "But that place is a death sentence. It's not Heaven where each soul is in its own paradise, living a peaceful life among memories. It's not hell where souls are trapped and tortured. It is all-out warfare at all times. The monsters prey upon each other there for eternity."

Sam's stomach seemed to fill with lead. "So is Dean dead?"

"Not yet. He will be soon, though."

Sam pushed down his horror and tried to think. It was even more important that he find a way into Purgatory now. Dean needed him more than ever. He needed to find the right words to use to appeal to Death.

"There is a way he can get himself out," Death said. "A safety hatch, as it were. If he can find a guide—and if he can survive long enough to reach it—he might find his own way home."

"Or he could die first," Sam said.

"Yes."

Abandoning everything but need, Sam began to beg. "Please help me. I will do _anything_ you want, just help me get him out. Or send me in. I can fight with him and we can find the way out together. Please, _please, _help me."

Death looked at him pitilessly. "I am tired of this conversation and you don't have long enough to continue it. You have two choices, Sam: die, or go back and wait for Dean to find a way back to you alone. He might make it."

"I don't have to die?" Sam asked, shooting Billie a confused look as she winked at him.

"No, you don't have to die. This is not an allotted death for you. The clearest of those approaches in a graveyard, in a world surrounded by old foes. You can go back." He tapped his cane on the floor. "Billie will take care of whatever you decide. I am going."

He disappeared without a sound and Billie walked towards him. Sam flinched back, scared of her touch, but she grabbed his arm and held him in place. "I have an appointment in Missouri in two days. Kansas City. A lady called Eliza Bennett. If you really want your brother back, you will find me there."

"You'll help me?" Sam asked, his brows high with surprise.

"Right now, I am going to help you live," she said.

She pressed a hand to his chest and Sam felt pain rip through him like an electric shock. His eyes flew open and he was looking up at Doctor Robert, who was leaning over him, the paddles on a defibrillator in his hands and his face taut with tension.

The doctor quickly set down the paddles, pulled a penlight from his pocket, and swiped it over his eyes. Sam pushed his hand away and started to sit up. The doctor and woman stepped back, looking wary, and Sam pulled the cannula out of the crook of his elbow.

"Well, that's unexpected," Doctor Robert said. "I was sure you were gone."

"How long was I out?" Sam asked.

"You were _dead_ eight minutes," he answered. "Beating your brother's record by one. How do you feel?"

"Fine," Sam said. "I've got to get out of here."

He slid off of the table and grabbed his jacket then made for the door.

"Did you get what you needed?" Doctor Robert called after him.

Sam stopped with his hand on the door and considered. "I don't know," he admitted. "I might. I've got a start at least."

Without another word, he opened the door and strode out. He had two days to get to Kansas City and find a woman called Eliza Bennett. He'd managed more with less, but the stakes had never been so high before. This was about saving his brother's life.

* * *

Sam tracked Eliza Bennett to a nursing home on the edge of the city. It had taken longer than he would have liked, and he was scared it would be too late by the time he arrived in the parking lot of Green Acres Nursing Home and cut the engine.

He had dressed in the sweater and chinos he wore when going undercover as anything less formal other than a Fed. He wanted to present the image of a visiting relative making a respectful visit to his dear Aunt Eliza.

He'd checked her profile and seen that she was only in her sixties, so he thought the cover would hold up to get him in. When he got in there, it might be a different story. He was banking on the fact she was in a nursing home, despite her lack of advanced years, to mean she was a little confused and wouldn't be too suspicious when he arrived.

That was, if she was even still alive. He was hyper-aware that Billie had given him no specific time when she'd sent him back into the world, and it was entirely possible that he would arrive only to be told his 'Aunt' had already passed away.

He jogged across the parking lot and through the door, into a small lobby with peach wallpapers walls and thin, industrial, carpeted floors.

There was a reception desk that a middle-aged woman was seated behind, wearing a neat cream cardigan and small crucifix. She smiled up at him and said, "May I help you?"

Sam gave her his most ingratiating smile, the one Dean always said made him look like a bible seller and Sam thought made him look innocent and unassuming. "Hi. I was hoping to see Eliza Bennett. I'm in town and didn't want to pass up the chance to spend some time with my aunt."

He held his breath as he waited for her response, hoping he wasn't about to be informed of her sad passing. To his relief, she smiled and pushed a book and pen across the desk.

"Of course," she said. "If you could just sign in. Have you visited before?"

"No," Sam said. "I never had the chance."

She beamed. "Then it's even nicer that you came today. Our residents don't often get visits from the younger members of their family."

Sam entered his false details into the book, creating a loopy signature for Sam Smith, and pushed the book back to her. She checked it and nodded. "All done. Eliza is in room forty-two. Take a right through the doors and follow the corridor all the way down to the elevators. She's in a garden room."

Sam thanked her and walked quickly through the door and followed her directions. Some of the doors he passed were open and he saw elderly people in chairs facing TVs and others with books on their lap. One man with a tuft of cloudy white hair was snoring loudly from his place reclining in a chair.

Sam reached room forty-two and saw the door was closed. Hoping that she was going to be alone and not already being visited by a family member, he knocked and peered inside, calling, "Eliza?"

"Come in," a voice called.

Sam went into the light room and closed the door behind him. There were two wing-backed chairs facing open doors that led out into a tended garden, and one was occupied by a frail woman wearing a navy twin-set and beige slacks. Sam saw the reason behind her early occupation of a nursing home by the clouded and unfocused look of her eyes: she was blind.

He was immediately relieved that she was still alive, that he hadn't missed Billie, but he also felt a pang of guilt that her last hours of life—perhaps minutes—were going to be filled with a lie and a stranger. He had to do it, though. He needed to see Billie if he was going to get Dean and Castiel back.

"Hello, Eliza," he said. "I'm Sam. I was hoping I could visit with you."

"Sam," she said, her brow furrowed. "Do I know you?"

Sam pushed down his guilt and said, "We've never met, but I'm a relative on your mother's side."

"Are you one of Katherine's children?"

Sam seized on the excuse and said, "Yes, that's Mom."

"Of course. I haven't seen Katherine in years. How is she?"

"She's good," Sam said. "You know Mom, always busy."

She nodded and said, "You can come closer. Let me see you."

For a moment, Sam was confused, and then he realized what she wanted as she was holding up her hands. He moved closer and said, "I'm here."

"Yes, dear," she said patiently. "Do you mind? I see with my hands these days."

"I don't mind at all," Sam said, bending closer and taking her hands then guiding them to his face.

Her fingers roved over his face, brushing the lids of his closed eyes and his lips that he'd formed into a careful smile. When she drew back her hands, he relaxed and took a step back. "I don't feel your mother in you," she said.

"I'm more like my father," Sam said.

"Ah yes, Peter. Do you have his hair, too?"

"I do," Sam said, wondering what color hair he had just given himself.

"Take a seat," she said. "I can feel you standing there."

Sam perched on the edge of the chair opposite her.

"I thought Katherine and her family were in Florida," she said.

"We are," Sam said. "I am heading to Washington to visit some friends, and I promised Mom that I would stop in and see you on my way."

He felt like a complete asshole for how easily the lies came to him. He was playing his part perfectly, but it made him feel awful that he was doing this to her. All he could say in his favor was that he was giving her a good last day of life, even if it was a lie.

"That's sweet," she said. "Katherine used to write to me, back when I could read them. She told me about you and your brother. Were you the one with the guitar or the football player?"

Sam smiled—though she couldn't see it— and said, "I was the football player. I took a knee injury and it slowed me down."

"That's a pity," she said. "Katherine had such high hopes for your career. What do you do now?"

"I'm working in used car sales," Sam said.

"That must be…" She trailed off and pressed a hand to her forehead.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked.

"I have the most terrible headache suddenly," she said. "I feel so…"

She leaned her head against the back of the chair and closed her eyes. Her face was pained and again Sam felt the weight of what he was doing. If he was here for any other reason, he would be calling for help, trying to save her, but instead he was waiting for her to die. He looked at the door, wondering if anyone was going to come in and destroy his hopes, and he willed them not to.

"Rest, Eliza," he said gently.

"I think I will," she said, her voice weak. "Just a few minutes."

Sam looked out of the window and tried to force down the hatred he felt for himself. He had done a lot of awful things in his life, many far worse than this, but he rarely felt cruel, and that was what he felt now.

Suddenly, a woman appeared outside among the flowerbeds and he shot to his feet as she walked towards him. "Billie!"

"You found her," she said. "I wasn't sure you'd manage it. I'm almost disappointed that you did. It would have made things easier if the choice was taken out of my hands."

Eliza stirred. "Is someone there?" she asked. "Sam?"

Billie entered the room and spoke softly to the woman. "There is nothing to fear," she said. "I am here to help."

"I have such a headache," Eliza said.

"I know."

Sam was surprised to see the gentleness in Billie's face and hear it in her voice. She seemed a completely different person than the one Sam had met in the Veil. She was kind now, no mocking in her at all. He was pleased by it, she was making Eliza's passage easier, but as she touched Eliza's shoulder and the woman's breath stopped, Sam felt a twinge of something like hatred toward her.

"I need to help her now," Billie said. "Wait for me by your car. It won't take long."

Sam nodded and made for the door as she vanished, leaving Sam in the room as the only living person. He didn't look back at Eliza to see if she looked peaceful, scared to see that she might not. He just let himself out of the room and walked quickly back to the reception and then, answering the receptionist's questions with a quick, "She's sleeping. I'll come back another time," he walked out into the warm air and to the Impala. He got into the driver's side and rested his arms over the steering wheel, his worry for Dean and Castiel only tempered slightly by what he had just done.

He didn't have to wait long before someone knocked on his window and Billie peered in. He threw open the door and got out. "Tell me you took her to Heaven," he said.

"I did. She is at peace now, and she has sight to see the eternity waiting for her there."

Sam nodded, slightly comforted, and then pressed on with his need. "Can you help me get into Purgatory?"

"I can and will, in exchange for something from you."

Sam sighed with relief. "Anything."

"You're not ever curious what I want? I could be using you to destroy the world."

"You're not." He wasn't confident of that, but he didn't want to explore the possibility.

"No, I'm not," she said. "I just want an ally. The King of Hell has found a powerful weapon, and there are more out there that he will be looking for soon. I want protection in the form of you, your brother and the angel if it comes to a fight. What Crowley will find can have disastrous side-effects for me and the rest of the divine."

"What does he have?" Sam asked.

"That's not important now, not to you, anyway. You need to get to your brother before he is killed by the monsters that inhabit that place."

"What about Cas?" Sam asked. "Will you help me get him out, too?"

"I will do my part, but it's mostly up to you. You have to find him and bring him back to me." She considered him for a moment. "I can't make guarantees, Sam. I can get you into Purgatory, but I can't promise to get you out. That's up to you, too. You have to be at the right place at the right time with the people you need for me to bring you out."

"I'll do it," Sam said.

He had no choice but to find a way to do it. This was about more than getting his family back now. If Billie was right about Crowley having something, finding something, they were all going to need to fight together to stop him.

"I will be waiting for you in Blue Valley Industrial District. Find Yeong's Liquor Store and bring weapons. You're going to need them where you're going." She looked him up and down. "You might want to change, too. You'll want something easier to fight in."

Sam could and had fought in every outfit imaginable over the years, but he thought he would need something more utilitarian for Purgatory.

"Thanks, Billie," he said. "I'll be there as soon as I—" He stopped as she nodded once and vanished.

He didn't waste another moment stopping to think; he just threw himself in behind the wheel and brought the engine to life. He needed to change and gather all the weapons he could carry and then get to her—get to Purgatory.

Dean and Castiel were waiting.

* * *

**So… Billie made an appearance. I always like to write her, though I find her challenging. **

**Until next time…**

**Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you so much Captainhaterade, VegasGranny, and Ncsupnatfan for giving your time to beta and pre-read.**

* * *

_**Chapter Three**_

Sam found the neighborhood and liquor store Billie had directed him to and knew immediately he couldn't leave the Impala there. It would suck to get Dean out of Purgatory just for Dean to kill him for letting his baby be stripped or stolen. He found an overnight parking garage with security and then went to the trunk to get the duffel he'd filled with every imaginable weapon he could carry and a comprehensive first aid kit that he hoped he wouldn't need. He had a shotgun in the long inner pocket of his jacket and his Taurus in the back of his pants. The duffel contained heavy bottles of borax cleaning products, new clips of silver bullets, and salt shells for the guns. He had also stowed two machetes, one for him and one for Dean, when he found him. If the place was as bad as he was imagining, Dean was going to need a good weapon, though Sam was confident he'd have gotten his own to use before now. His brother was resourceful, and if he couldn't find one, he would make one.

Sam set out toward the liquor store, wary of the eyes that followed him as he walked along the streets. He probably looked suspicious with the duffel strapped high enough across his back to allow access to the bulge that was his gun in the back of his pants. No one commented, though, and he saw no cops, so he felt that he'd dodged a bullet. If they found the wealth of weapons on him, he was going to be slowed down by questions that might make him miss Billie.

When he reached the liquor store, he looked around and heard someone clearing a throat a little along the street. He went toward the sound and found Billie standing a little down an alley with dumpsters and beds made of cardboard boxes.

Without a word, she walked away from him, deeper into the alley, to a large area with a van that bore the name of the liquor store and more dumpsters. The walls were painted with graffiti and it smelled bad.

"I can get in through here?" he asked doubtfully.

"Yes. Are you ready?"

"Almost." Sam shrugged off the duffel and took out the machete, then strapped it to his waist and slung the bag across his back again. "Now I am."

"Do you have a knife?" she asked.

Sam took the small silver blade from his pocket and handed it to her. She grabbed the lapels of his shirt then cut a sigil into his skin that burned.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked.

"You want to find Dean, don't you? This will lead you to him—blood to blood."

She pressed her palm to his chest and a glow of white light momentarily blinded Sam, making black spots appear each time he blinked when it had faded. When she was done, he zipped up his jacket to cover his now-bared chest and said, "How does it work?"

"You'll feel a draw towards him. Just let it lead you."

Sam nodded and took her extended hand, feeling awkward. She tugged him around to face the wall where a blue door was painted. As she focused her eyes on it, the walls began to shake and the painted door seemed to be almost melting. Bright white light poured from it and streamed toward them. Sam squinted into it, wondering if he had to walk into it. Before he could ask, it reached them and he felt a twist in his stomach as his eyes squeezed shut against his swimming vision.

"We're here," Billie said, dropping his hand.

Sam saw they were by a river in a forest. It was lit by a dim twilight that took Sam's eyes a moment to focus in. A few feet away was a body with a gaping hole in its chest. Sam could see no other threat, but he felt it. The hair on the back of his neck prickled as if he was being watched, though when he scanned the area, he could see nothing. He drew his gun, though, and raised it.

"Be back here in exactly twenty-four hours, and I will be waiting for you," Billie said.

"You can't give me longer?" Sam asked.

"Can? Yes. Will? No. It will be long enough, if you're smart and as good a hunter as the stories say."

Sam set a countdown on his watch and said, "Is there anything else I need to know?"

"Yes," she said. "There is a rugaru coming."

Sam tensed, ready to fight, and looked around as Billie laughed softly and disappeared.

He could still see no sign of the creature, and he wondered if Billie was screwing with him. Then he heard movement above and jumped back in time to see a shape drop from a tree above him. Thin lips were drawn back from rotted teeth and the wormy face was twisted with rage as it launched itself at Sam.

He aimed the gun and pulled the trigger, the bullet entering the creature's head over its right eye, and though it made its head fly back and blood to begin to pour from the wound, it didn't stop it from coming at Sam. He dropped his gun and drew his machete instead, swiping it out to drive the rugaru back and make it roar with rage. Sam's heart was racing and adrenaline coursed through his veins, but he didn't let it take over. He knew he had to be smart if he wasn't going to end up as this monster's next meal.

The rugaru threw itself forwards and Sam met it halfway, the blade connecting with the side of its neck where it met resistance. Sam used his full strength to drive it through muscle and bone, slicing off the head that dropped a moment before the body, bouncing at Sam's feet.

He kicked it away and reached out with his honed hunter senses for any signs of something else coming for him. Finding none, he picked up his gun and looked around, taking in the area so he could find it again. There were three boulders grouped a little way away from him, and he walked towards them and placed a smaller rock on top then used the switchblade from his pocket to carve a star into the bark of a nearby tree.

Satisfied he would be able to recognize the place, he stopped a moment and focused on the feeling in his chest. It was like faint heat in the cuts that seemed to be drawing him right. When he started walking, the heat eased and his feet took over. They crossed the dirt- and twig-strewn ground confidently, and Sam let them lead him without resistance. He knew they would take him where he needed to go.

* * *

Dean held his blade ready as he walked through the trees. It was dark again, night, though this place never really saw daylight. It passed between the dim twilight, into darkness, and then back to the twilight that meant day. Or was that a day at all? He couldn't be sure how many hours passed between changes; there was no way to track. His watch had been broken in the fight with the gorilla wolves that had greeted him upon his arrival in Purgatory—the creatures Castiel had left him to face alone.

He couldn't make sense of Castiel's exit. He hadn't liked conflict before, but that was when he was more than halfway to really crazy. Before that he had been a warrior. And he had seemed more like himself when he'd spoken to Dean when they'd arrived. Dean had thought the shock of what happened had knocked whatever had come loose in Castiel's head back into place. He was sure that wasn't why Castiel had left him alone to fight. There was some other reason, and Dean needed to know what it was.

He also needed his friend back. That was why he had committed his days and nights to interrogating the monsters he found on where the angel was.

News had spread of the human in Purgatory, and he was sure an angel would attract similar notice. The fact he was being actively hunted was a problem, especially as some of the monsters were especially murderous since Dean and Sam sent them to Purgatory in the first place. Dean's entire adult life—and much of his "childhood"—had been committed to killing the kinds of creatures Purgatory was filled with, and they bore a grudge.

The blade he carried had been taken from some kind of monster he'd never faced before. For something homemade, it was pretty good, and Dean was now accustomed to its weight and balance. It had worked for him on countless monsters so far, and he had no reason to doubt that it would keep working as long as he stayed strong. And he had to stay strong. Any moment of weakness was apt to be his last, and if he was dead, he'd never find Castiel, and they would never find a way back to Sam together.

Those two tasks were Dean's focus. He needed to find Castiel and together they had to get back to Sam. He would be fighting hard to get them back, desperate, and Sam made bad choices in situations like that. Dean didn't want to think of what he might be doing, what he might be risking, but he knew in his heart that Sam's life would be offered up to any demon or being that had a chance of helping him.

That was what they did for each other.

Dean stopped at the river to rinse his mouth with the tepid water. He had no need to sleep or eat in this place, as he wasn't truly alive here. It was convenient as attending to either need would leave him vulnerable, but he would give almost anything to be able to brush his teeth.

He heard the crack of a twig behind him, and he turned quickly, blade at the ready. He found himself facing a creature with silver eyes and fingers that ended in long claws. He didn't recognise the type of monster, but it wasn't the first time. There must be hundreds of monsters he and Sam hadn't faced before, that had probably been extinct for generations, and they were all represented in Purgatory.

The monster charged and Dean launched himself forward to meet it halfway, swinging the blade. In a lucky move, the edge of the blade met the creature's clawed hand as it extended towards him and sliced it off. It screamed—a piercing sound that made Dean want to cover his ears—and staggered back.

Dean kicked it in the gut, driving it back towards a tree, and thrust out his blade into the thing's chest and through to the trunk, effectively impaling it.

The creature screamed again, and Dean let it get the pain out of its system before asking the question that he'd asked so many times, he was starting to tire of it. It was only need that made him keep asking it.

"Where's the angel?"

The creature's face, twisted with pain, turned away from him as if the question was unworthy of being acknowledged. Dean wiggled the blade slightly, making it scream, and then asked the question again in a low, menacing voice. "Where is the _angel_?"

"I don't know! I've never seen it!"

"But you must have heard about it. Angel coming to Purgatory, that's got to make the news."

"I heard there was something new and that they were looking for it, but I don't know what."

"What's looking for it?" Dean asked.

The creature's lips curled back from its teeth for a moment, eyes narrowed, and then, as Dean moved the blade ever so slightly, it hissed. "The Leviathans."

Dean took a step back. He'd known they were here, and he'd heard from a werewolf that their numbers were swelling as more were being killed on Earth without their dick of a boss guiding them, but he'd not seen any. He was glad—it would be a tough kill without borax to slow them down, no matter how honed his skills were now—but he hadn't wondered why. Were they leaving him alone as they had a more important target than a lone human, even one that had helped kill their boss? Castiel had freed them and then he had seen them trapped again. Were they targeting him for revenge?

"Where are they?" he asked.

The creature made a sound that was almost a laugh. "They're everywhere, all the time. You just have to look."

Dean turned his head automatically and swept the area for a sign of someone or some_thing_ watching. There was nothing that he could see, but maybe that was just because they were good at hiding. They'd been smart. Chet, the Leviathan that they had kept locked down in the basement for a while, had been able to track them using their aliases and a computer program. If they were all like that, they would be smart enough to not show themselves to him unless they wanted to.

But why wouldn't they just kill him now?

'_Because they want Cas."_

The voice that whispered to him sounded a lot like Sam's, and Dean figured it was probably right. They'd know he would look for his friend, so why waste their time killing him when they could use him as a bloodhound to find what they really wanted?

With distracted ease, Dean yanked the blade free of wood and flesh and swung it up to cut off the creature's head before it could move.

As the pieces fell, he stepped back and drew a deep breath. He knew why he was being left alone, now, and more importantly, why Castiel had left him. He was smart enough to know he would be hunted, and he would want to protect Dean. That was great, Dean appreciated it, but it didn't mean he was going to let Castiel sacrifice himself that way. Now it was even more important that he find Castiel so they could fight together.

Castiel needed his help, and Dean was going to find him.

* * *

**So… A little of what Dean's up to. He'll have company soon. **

**Until next time…**

**Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you so much Captainhaterade for beta'ing. This was a pretty big ask and you came through magnificently. Thank you Ncsupnatfan and VegasGranny for being there for this and each story when I've asked, for sharing your ideas and for supporting me when I waver. **

**There was art made for this chapter by the talented Zolaliz which can be accessed on my profile page. Look for the link under my Canon Big Bang entry.**

* * *

_**Chapter Four**_

Sam had known Purgatory was going to be tough, but he hadn't fully appreciated what he was getting into until he was there. He'd only been here a few hours and he was lucky to be alive after some of the attacks he's had to fend off. How had Dean done it? It was truly a constant battle.

But Dean was alive, and he reveled in the knowledge as the heat in his chest pulsed and his feet drew him on without his instruction.

He ran out of bullets at hour twelve, shoved his guns into the duffel, and went to work with the machete. He had other, more specific weapons with him, but he'd not found anything yet that decapitation didn't stop. He didn't expect to, either; Leviathans could be stopped with it, so any lesser monster in here should be, too.

As he walked, he tried to remember landmarks in case the river forked and he was drawn away from it. It was hard, as almost everything looked the same here, but there were occasional clusters of boulders and strangely shaped trees that he tried to memorize.

He felt no tiredness, and he supposed it was part of the laws of this place. He'd never felt tired in the Cage, either. This was a whole other world and human needs weren't an issue here.

He came to a bend in the river and his feet drew him along it , his pace now increasing slightly. That had to mean he was closer, right? The fifteenth hour in this place had just passed and he wanted to have plenty of time to get them back to the rendezvous with Billie. Hopefully Castiel would be able to fly them, but who knows if he has access to his angelic abilities here.

A few more minutes later, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and knew he was no longer alone. He raised the machete and came to a stop, his eyes searching his surroundings. He could see nothing, and he looked up to the trees, and then the river behind him began to rush and he spun around to look at it.

A shape began to form just below the surface; it looked like a man dressed in rags with dark hair that fanned around his face. It was a nixie, a monster he'd heard of but never faced, but that ceased to matter as the nixie sprang out of the water towards him.

Sam felt himself being drawn in by the nixie's violin-like song. As the monster came at him, he shook his head to drive away the pull and focused on the one in his chest, instead. Dean was a more pressing need, and it worked to clear his mind.

Its teeth pulled back in a snarl, the nixie lunged at Sam, and he met it with a swipe of the machete that buried itself in the side of the creature's neck. Sam dragged it out and swung again, cutting off the pained howls as its head rolled into the river and the body dropped with a meaty thud.

Sam stepped back and took a breath before resuming his hike towards Dean's pull.

Another thirty minutes had passed while he'd traveled an incalculable distance when he heard a roar of anger ahead that sounded familiar. He thought it was Dean.

He ran towards it, his chest starting to burn with the pain of the draw, and breathed his brother's name with relief, proof that the sigil had worked.

There another roar of anger, and Sam spotted two figures ahead. One was shorter, with long hair that trailed down its back, and the other was unmistakably his brother. He ran forward but Dean's attention was on the creature he was facing. As Sam drew closer, Dean swung the strange blade he was armed with and cut off the creature's dead.

He wiped a hand over his face and then turned to meet Sam, who was close enough to see his eyes widen with recognition. He didn't realize the strange expression that took over Dean's face was anger until he was already on his back. Dean had swung the hilt of his blade and slammed it into the side of Sam's head. Pain exploded and he collapsed backwards, landing partially on his duffel so he was at an awkward angle.

"Dean! It's me!"

"The hell it is," Dean growled, holding his blade close enough to Sam's throat that he knew one wrong move or a little more pressure would slice through his skin.

Dean's face was filled with rage and hatred, an expression he had never worn when facing Sam before, not even when Sam had made the worst of his life's mistakes and Dean had barely been able to look at him.

"Shapeshifter or Leviathan?" Dean asked, kicking Sam's side. "Which is it?"

"Neither," Sam said, grunting with pain. "I'm your brother. I'm really here."

"No, you're not. If you were, me and Cas would have seen you. It was just the two of us when we were spat out here."

"I got help," Sam said. "I spoke to Death and one of his reapers got me in. Where's Cas?"

A flicker of surprise crossed Dean's face and then it was schooled into neutrality as he said, "Leviathan. You're getting nowhere near Cas; none of you are. You're dying."

Sam swallowed hard and the blade nicked his throat. He felt the warm trickle of blood running down the side of his neck, and he seized on a hope. "Look, Dean, my blood isn't black. It's really me."

Dean's eyes widened slightly and he said, "That's even easier then. Shapeshifters are nothing."

"And yet one beat me to a pulp," Sam said. "Remember that? When we were in St. Louis with Becky. You were copied and you gave me the beating of a lifetime."

Dean laughed softly. "Yeah, I remember that, and I remember the thing getting the full brain download off of me. Just because you know crap, it doesn't mean you're Sammy."

"No, but the fact I've got Dad's old silver knife in my pocket will. I brought it with me. He reached for the pocket he'd stowed it in, and Dean kicked his hand away.

"I don't think so."

"Then you get it," Sam said.

Dean narrowed his eyes and then bent, the blade still pressed into Sam's throat, and tugged the knife from where Sam had stowed it. With an almost curious expression, he pressed it to Sam's cheek, just under his right eye, and drew it down, leaving a sting of pain and then wetness in its wake.

Sam rolled his eyes. "And there was no better place to cut me than my damn face?"

Dean's own eyes widened and Sam saw something that had been absent return to him. "Sammy?"

Sam grinned. "Told ya."

Dean moved the blade away from his throat, dragged him up to his feet and threw his arms around him. Sam breathed out shakily, just relishing the moment of reunion, then pulled back and looked him in the eyes. "Happy now?"

Dean's smile became a glower. "No. What the hell are you doing here?"

* * *

Dean saw the mulish expression form on Sam's face at his question, and it made his ire rise. What the hell was Sam thinking, coming here, and what had it cost him to do it? He said something about Death and one of his reapers, and after the way their last meeting with Death had gone—with Death threatening their lives—Dean knew Death hadn't helped Sam out of the goodness of his heart.

"What deal did you make?" he went on. "Did you bind him again?"

"No," Sam said, his eyes narrowing with annoyance. "I'm not a dumbass. I went to Doctor Roberts."

"You had him kill you?!"

"Yes," Sam said. "Just like you did when you wanted to talk to Death to get my soul back. And obviously it worked out, because I'm here now, still alive. He got me back."

"What was the deal, then? I know Death didn't do it for free."

Sam rubbed the back of his neck. "I didn't deal with him. He wouldn't. I dealt with Billie, his reaper. She wants us both on Earth because Crowley is causing trouble. He's got something powerful, and she thinks he's got something bigger to find." He averted his eyes. "And he's got Kevin."

"He's got Kevin?! Then what the hell are you doing here? You should be getting him back!"

Sam glowered. "Yeah, because that would be so easy for me to do alone. It'll take both of us and Castiel to do it. I made the smart choice and came for you first."

There was something in his face that betrayed the truth. He'd not been thinking wisely when he made the choice; he'd been thinking family. Dean knew he would have made the same choice if it was Sam that was lost, but he also felt they had a bigger responsibility to Kevin than they did each other. The kid was pretty much helpless, and Dean had been handling himself just fine.

"Where's Cas?" Sam asked before Dean could press on with his anger.

"No idea," Dean admitted. "We were together when we arrived and then these… well, I call them _gorilla wolves_, showed up, and he took off."

"He left you to fight alone?"

Dean heard the anger in his brother's tone, and he hurried to quell it. "Yeah, and I was pissed, too, but I figured it out. He's got the Leviathans gunning for him, and he didn't want them coming for me, too. He was doing what he thought was the smart thing, the good thing. It's not his fault it was actually pretty damn dumb. I don't need protecting. We should have been fighting together."

"We've got to find him," Sam said. "We've only got"—he checked his watch—"nine hours to get back to where I arrived if we're getting out. Billie only gave me a day to find you and get back. Have you tried praying?"

Dean rolled his eyes, "Duh. I've been praying my ass off. He's not answering. He's—" He cut off as the sound of something flying through the air approached and he scanned the sky for the approaching threat. A swarm of black smoke pelted towards them and landed on the ground with a crash. The smoke cleared and showed a mass of black goo that took the shape of a person. Dean would have known even without seeing the face that it was a Leviathan as the goo looked like the black crap that had been their blood.

"Chet!" he said, recognizing the Leviathan that they'd trapped in the basement of Rufus' cabin.

"Meat puppets," he replied cheerfully.

"The bag, Dean!" Sam shouted as he slipped it off his back onto the ground and stepped forward, lifting the machete.

Dean ignored him, not willing to let Sam go up against one of these monsters alone, but he was quickly thrown back with a blow to the chest from Chet that felt like an iron-fisted punch.

He rolled over, every rib feeling like it had been shattered, and crawled toward the duffel Sam had been carrying. He ripped it open and felt inside, his hand meeting the plastic handle of a bottle.

"Smart, Sammy," he muttered, pulling it out and scrambling to his feet as he uncapped the bottle.

Sam was backing away from Chet, who was leering at him, and Dean sloshed the open bottle through the air towards him. A large amount of it splashed Sam, but enough touched Chet to drive him back, his skin burning as if touched by acid.

"Now, Sam!" he shouted.

Sam swung the machete and Chet's head parted from his body and thudded to the ground, followed by the body.

Sam quickly turned and his eyes raked over Dean. "Are you okay?"

Dean took a deep, testing breath, and found that, although they hurt like hell, he felt none of the constriction he'd felt from broken ribs in the past.

"Sore as all hell, but nothing's broken. You?"

Sam wiped a hand over his face, smearing the borax that had splashed him, and said, "I'm pretty sure I'm now sparkly clean, but other than that, I'm good."

Dean huffed a laugh. "Good move bringing the borax."

"I brought everything I could think of. I ran out of bullets pretty fast, though."

"But you brought a machete," Dean said.

Sam eyed Dean's own blade. "And you have… What the hell do you even call that thing?"

"The Destroyer," Dean said.

Sam's lips quirked into a smile. "Seriously?"

"No," Dean said, rolling his eyes. "I call it useful. I got it off some strange fugly on my first day. I ran out of bullets pretty fast, too."

Sam's face became serious. "How are we going to find Cas, Dean? We can't leave without him."

"No idea. How did you find me?"

Sam unzipped his jacket and showed Dean a symbol carved into his skin. "Billie did this. It was a blood-to-blood spell. It drew me to you. It's not going to get us to Cas, though."

Dean nodded. "Then we'll split up. You go back to where you're meeting Billie and get her to wait, then follow that spell thing back to me. I'll look for Cas."

Sam crossed his arms over his chest. "No."

"It's the smartest thing to do," Dean said. "We're going to run out of time otherwise."

"One, there is no way Billie is going to give us more time. Two, there is no way I am leaving you to fight alone."

Dean's chin jutted out. "I've been here for days and I haven't been killed yet. I can handle myself."

"I know that, Dean, but I did this to get you out, and I am not…"

Dean grabbed his arm and pressed a hand to his mouth. "Shut up!" he whispered.

Sam heard it, too, the sound of breaking twigs and running footsteps that got louder the closer they got. They both lifted their blades and stood back to back as they scanned their surroundings.

The source of the sound flew towards them, and they both turned towards it. A woman was running at them, being chased by three monsters, two men and a woman. As they drew closer to their prey, they began to shriek with unmistakable bloodlust.

Dean didn't care who was chasing whom, or why. They were in Purgatory, which meant they were monsters. As the fleeing woman drew closer, he moved forwards, blade poised to swing. , But Sam grabbed his arm and drew it down. "No, Dean!"

"What?" Dean asked.

"You can't kill her."

"Why the hell not?"

As the woman ran around them in a wide circle, Sam spread his stance and prepared for the leader of the chasing pack to reach them. "It's Amy," he said.

Dean readied himself to fight, too, his mind turning over the name and trying to place it. As the lead monster reached Sam, her claws reaching for his face, the memory came to him.

Amy was Sam's friend.

Amy was the kitsune Dean had killed.

* * *

**So… Amy! I have another Purgatory that I started and lost the flow of a long time ago, but I loved introducing some old characters in that one, too. I might go back to it one day. I wish we could have seen some old faces in S8's Purgatory scenes, too. **

**Until next time…**

**Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you so much Captainhaterade for the fabulous beta job. Thank you VegasGranny and Ncsupnatfan for always coming through for me with the highlighters and notes. You make editing a much more enjoyable process.**

* * *

_**Chapter Five**_

Sam heard scrabbling behind him and knew it was Amy, but he couldn't check to see what she was doing with her three pursuers so close. The lead monster came at Sam, clawed hands extended, and Sam swiped his blade through the air. The kitsune dodged back, hand upraised to block Sam's attack, and he sliced off its hand at the wrist.

He had no time to appreciate the victory, though, as the woman in the pack was coming for him, and Dean was grunting in pain beside him while dealing with the third monster. If the creatures had managed to use their claws, Dean would have been doing more than grunting—they could disembowel with a stroke—so he stopped worrying about Dean and focused on the monster he was facing.

Her hair had perhaps been blonde, once, but now it was matted with dirt and a bird's nest of tangles. Her lips were pulled back from her teeth in a snarl, and her eyes narrowed with hatred. Sam swung the blade but missed as she dodged back. Unable to stop the swing, he had to let it run its course before correcting it, and she used the chance to swipe at him with her claws. They slice across his upper left arm, leaving burning pain in their wake, and Sam hissed between his teeth.

His arm felt slow and sluggish as the blood flowed, but he pushed down the pain and concentrated on leading with his right as he stepped forward and swung again. This time he was luckier; he was able to catch her shoulder and cut off her arm. She fell to the ground and Sam refocused on the kitsune missing his hand. Though his swing was not as strong as it had been, he was still able to decapitate it.

He loomed over the kitsune on the ground, the stump where her arm had been pulsing blood, and looked down at her. With another thrill in his stomach, the same he'd felt when he'd seen Amy, he realized he knew her. It was Amy's mother, staring up at him with hatred. He took a breath before swiping the machete down—as if he was chopping wood—to remove her head.

With her dead, he turned his attention to his brother, bent over, his breath coming fast, with his huge blade hanging at his side. Sam saw blood on the ground in front of him.

"Dean!" he said. "What happened?"

Dean straightened up and Sam saw the cut leading from his temple, around his left eye, to his jaw. It didn't look deep but it was still bleeding. "It's just a scratch," he said. "Barely caught me. Let's look at you."

"No," Sam said. "Let's sort you out first."

He bent and reached for his duffel, rooting through it for the first aid kit he'd brought, but before he could pull it out, feet appeared in front of him and he looked up to see Amy standing over him. She was dirty and her hair tangled, but she hadn't lost the appearance of humanity the way her mother had.

Straightening up slowly, he said, "Hello, Amy."

"You killed my mom," she said, looking down at her mother's body with a mixture of relief and regret.

Dean stepped up beside Sam, swiping the blood from his face. "She was trying to kill us _and _you."

She flexed her clawed fingers and fixed her glare on him. "Like you did, you mean?"

Sam held up his hands. "Let's just calm down, okay?"

Amy huffed a laugh. "He killed me, Sam!"

"He did," Sam agreed. "And I know you must hate us both because of it, but there are two of us and one of you. If you're going to force a fight, we're going to win."

She stared at him for a moment. "You've changed."

"It was a long year," Sam said.

He had spent months with Lucifer accompanying him wherever he went, he had lost his mind and nearly died, his brother had been snatched away from him, he'd lost Bobby. He'd changed even more than she knew.

"It was for me, too," she said. "Time passes slowly in this place when you're fighting for your life."

Dean nodded. "Yeah. It does. And I'm guessing being chased by your own mom will make it slow down ever more."

Amy nodded stiffly. "It does. And I'm grateful to you both for saving my life just now, but this doesn't make us even for what you did to my son."

"Jacob's fine, Amy," he said. "He's with a group in Nebraska."

Dean shot him a quick look and Sam nodded slightly. He hadn't told Dean yet, but after he'd heard about what Dean had done, he'd gone looking for Jacob. The kid was young and helpless; Sam had assumed he needed to be taken care of, but he wasn't that helpless after all. He was supporting himself with his mother's savings—which is how Sam was able to track him down— and living with a group of kitsunes that followed Amy's non-murderous lifestyle.

"He's not killing," he went on.

Amy's eyes widened. "He's not?"

Dean looked incredulous but Sam ignored him and the questions in his eyes. "The group he's with have two that work in a funeral home. They eat the same way you did. He's really okay, I swear."

The kid hadn't been happy to see Sam, nor had the group he was living with, but Sam had made it out without killing any of them or being seriously hurt himself.

"Thank you, Sam," Amy said quietly, thumbing tears from her eyes.

"Okay," Dean said. "Now we've got that out of the way, we need to move on." He gave Sam a pointed look. "We need to find Cas."

Sam nodded eagerly. "Yeah! I'm sorry, Amy, but we really do need to move on. I'm…"

He wasn't sure what to say. A simple apology for what had happened to her because he'd been honest with his brother was never going to be enough. Dean had killed what he considered to be a monster, and Sam understood that, but she had also been Sam's friend, a mother, and she had been killing to save her son. Wrong as that was, Sam wasn't sure he wouldn't have done the same for someone he loved.

She nodded and started to walk away, then turned slowly, her eyes narrowed with something like confusion. "You're looking for someone?" she said.

"Yes, Castiel. He's an angel and he was stuck here with Dean," Sam said. "Have you seen him? Have you heard anything about him, maybe?"

She was silent a long time, and Sam thought she must not know anything, but then she nodded slowly and said, "I've seen Castiel."

Dean walked towards her, his blade gripped tight in his hand. "Where is he?"

Amy flexed her fingers again, and Sam quickly stepped between them and said, "Please, Amy. We need to find him. We don't have long."

"Long for what?"

Sam considered a moment and then answered, "We've got a way out of here, someone is going to be waiting for us, but we've got to hurry. We need to find Castiel and get him out before we run out of time. If you know something, please tell us."

Amy stared into his eyes for a long moment and then said, "I'll tell you, but I want something in return."

Dean scoffed. "Something more than us saving your life?"

"You want to come with us?" Sam guessed.

"I want to get back to my son."

"Of course," Sam said automatically. "Whatever you—"

Dean grabbed his arm, right over the slash Amy's mother had left, and he hissed in pain.

"Look, Amy, I get that you want out," Dean said, "but we can't guarantee we can actually do it. The person that got Sam in is a reaper, and they're not exactly good about bringing people back to life. We can _try_ to get you out, bargain with her, but I don't know what she'll say."

She sighed. "I know, but if there's a chance, I have to take it. My son needs me. If you agree to take me to her, help me plead my case, I'll help you find Castiel."

Sam nodded. "We'll definitely do that."

He was thinking there might be some room to bargain since Billie wanted them both to stop whatever Crowley was doing. She wasn't exactly a philanthropist, but maybe they could persuade her. They had to at least try for Amy. She deserved it.

"Yeah," Dean said. "But let's be clear. We'll get you out—if we can—but if you start killing again, I _will _find you and send you back here."

Sam glared at him, but Dean was defiant. Perhaps he thought honesty was best, but Sam wished he'd saved his threats until they had Castiel back.

"I won't kill anyone," Amy said.

Dean nodded stiffy. "Okay. Good. Then where is he?"

"I'll show you," she said.

"Great, thanks!" Sam said. "Let's go."

"Wait," Dean said. "Hand over the bag. I want to see what we can use to fix that damn gash in your arm before you bleed out."

Sam handed him the duffel and he pulled out the first aid kit. Dean hissed between his teeth as he pulled open the ragged slash in Sam's jacket. "That's pretty nasty, Sammy.".

"It's fine," Sam said. "Just tape it up so we can get out of here."

Sam knew the injury could be a problem, but he was hopeful now and didn't want to delay. If they could find Castiel and get back to Billie, they could get out of this place. He knew it wasn't going to be easy to persuade Billie to let Amy out with them, but he would do what he could to make it happen.

* * *

**So… Sam's wounded. Are any of you even a little surprised? Unless this is the first time you're reading one of my stories, you should have been expecting it. I love to hurt the ones I love. **

**Until next time…**

**Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you so much Captainhaterade for taking on the this project and doing such a great job beta'ing. Thank you Ncsupnatfan and VegasGranny for pre-reading and supporting.**

* * *

_**Chapter Six**_

Dean was worried about Sam. Though he'd patched his wounded arm as well as he could, the bandage was already wet with blood that had seeped through, and Sam was unsteady on his feet. Dean wasn't feeling that great himself. The cut on his face burned, though the bleeding had stopped, and he was thinking about all the dirt that filled the place, probably seeping into their wounds even as they walked. He wanted to find Castiel more than ever now. It was about more than getting them out of this place; it was about getting to his ability to heal, too.

Sam stumbled again, and Dean steadied him again. "Stop a minute, Sammy," he said. "We need to fix your arm up some more."

Sam stopped and looked down at the bandage around his arm. "Damn. I thought it would have stopped bleeding by now."

"They usually do," Amy said. "Unless they get a killing blow in, you're just hurt here for a while before you heal and start all over again. My mother got a few good swipes in on me. I guess it's because you're human and technically here instead of just a soul and, you know, dead."

"Awesome, the benefits of being alive in Purgatory," Dean said.

He shrugged off the duffel he'd insisted on taking from Sam and took out the first aid kit. Sam started to unpeel the bandage around his arm, and Dean slapped his hand away. "Let's leave that where it is," he said. "We'll just add to it. I don't want you bleeding out."

"Do you think I can in here?" Sam asked. "We're not technically alive here, are we?"

Dean bit his lip as he added another gauze pad over the wettest part of the bandage and then wrapped more bandages around it. "I don't know. Like Amy says, we're not just souls. I'm not risking it with your luck. If you drop, I'll have to carry your oversized ass and that's going to slow us down."

Sam huffed a laugh. "True. How's your face?"

"Handsome as ever." Dean quipped as he tied off the bandage tight enough to make Sam wince. "And I think we are technically alive. It was our bodies that got dumped here. We wouldn't be able to bleed otherwise."

A shadow crossed Sam's face. "I bled in the Cage."

Dean nodded stiffly. "Yeah, but it was your soul there, in the end, wasn't it? Cas got your body out." He patted Sam's chest. "Let's get going again."

Sam flexed his arm, testing the movement, and then started walking after Amy who had been watching with an annoyed look. Dean guessed she wanted to get to Castiel so they could get out of there, and he understood it, but he also wanted to take care of his brother. Sam had come here after him, and he wasn't letting the dumbass bleed out and die because he was stupid enough to think Dean was worth risking his life for.

"When we get out, will I just be a soul?" Amy asked.

Dean hitched the bag over his bag and fell into step beside Sam. "I don't know. Probably. It wasn't your body that ended up here. But, if we can get you out, Cas probably has a way to, you know, get you back in. He did for me."

"You died?" Amy asked. "How?"

"Which time?" Dean asked. "There's been a few."

Amy's eyes widened and Sam said, his voice intended to be soothing, "It happens more than you'd believe, but we always come out okay, and Cas is powerful. If we can get you out, he'll probably know a way to help you. I know where they buried you."

Dean was surprised to hear that Sam knew where, but he supposed he'd got the information out of her kid when he'd tracked him. He realized now that Sam wouldn't have spent the two weeks they were apart hunting alone, not after he heard about Jacob. He might even have gone to Amy's grave to pay his respects. That was the kind of crazy thing he'd do. He'd once gone to an empty grave to have a conversation with a marble headstone with his mother's name on it, even though she'd never set foot in the place, let alone been buried there.

At least Amy hadn't been cremated.

"How do you know about Castiel, Amy?" Sam asked.

"He helped me. My mother and her pack had been hunting me ever since we came across each other here—she holds a pretty big grudge against me—and Castiel stepped in when they trapped me. I wanted to stay with him, but he said it wasn't safe."

Dean nodded as she confirmed what he'd thought. He hated the idea of Castiel facing Leviathans alone, but he did appreciate the fact his friend was trying to protect him. He would have done the same in his position. At least when they found him, they'd have good news of a way to get out again. Sam had worried Castiel didn't have his wings here, but with the way he'd zapped off when they'd first arrived, Dean was pretty sure he did. They would find him and get back to the meeting place for Billie then get the hell out of here. It didn't end there, they had to get Kevin back and deal with whatever it was Crowley had that was worrying the reaper, but Dean was less worried about that since they'd be able to tackle the job together.

"Cas wouldn't want you to get hurt," Sam said with a small smile.

"That's what he said," she agreed.

She stopped and looked around. "It was close to here that I saw him."

Dean scanned the area but there was no sign of his friend. He'd known it was possible Castiel would have taken off again, but he'd had a stupid hope that he would still be there. They had to be coming close to their time to meet Billie and they had to find him and get back.

"How long do we… Sammy!"

Sam was leaning heavily against a tree, his face pale and the bandage around his arm soaked through again.

"I'm fine," Sam said, but the weakness in his voice belied the words.

Dean slid off the duffel and rooted inside for the first aid kit again. He hadn't wanted to stitch Sam up in here, trapping in the dirt that would end in infection, but with the way he was bleeding he didn't think he had a choice.

"Stop!" Amy said. "Something's coming."

Dean heard it, too; something was crashing across the twig strewn-ground towards them. He positioned himself in front of Sam and said, "Stay close, Amy. Don't let them near him."

Sam shoved his shoulder weakly and Dean cursed at him. "Just stay there and try not to die."

The creatures pelted towards them, two males and three females, with burning orange eyes and strangely elongated teeth. Dean had no idea what they were, but he figured that if decapitation stopped a Leviathan it would stop whatever these were. It had with everything else he'd met so far.

He wanted to go to them, to attack not defend, but there were more of them than there were him, Sam and Amy, and Sam was out of the game. They had to play it smart.

The monsters came to a stop in front of them and their strange eyes widened with what Dean could only think was excitement.

He widened his stance and waited for them to strike. They were smarter than some monsters he'd faced here, and didn't come at them one at a time. Two launched themselves at Dean, two at Amy, and the last went for Sam.

Dean roared with rage and swung his blade at the female closest to him, impaling its shoulder. He quickly dragged it out, drawing in the shriek of pain and using it to energize himself, and swung again, catching the neck this time. He was fast enough to take off the creature's head, but the second used its fellow's sacrifice to attack Dean, hot breath panting in his ear as it knocked him down and pinned him with knees on his stomach. He couldn't draw a breath; all he could to was grip the blade in his hand and try to slam it into the creature's back. He couldn't get the angle right, though, and all he could do was cut into its shoulder, making it adjust its aim so its teeth sank into his shoulder instead of his neck.

The pain burned and then he felt numbness creep down his arm. He heard a cry of anger and then the creature was hauled off of him. Sam looked down at him as another voice cried out and there was a thudding sound of something meaty hitting the ground.

"Dean!" Sam gasped.

Dean tried to sit up, but his right arm was useless, flopping helplessly at his side.

"Stay there," Sam said, straightening up and making his own sound of rage as a creature came at him. He decapitated it with a grunt and then dropped down to his knees beside Dean.

"Get the gauze, Amy!" he commanded.

Dean looked around and saw the monsters that had been coming for them were in pieces on the ground. How they'd managed it with Amy the only one uninjured, Dean didn't know, but he was damn happy they had.

Amy slapped a wad of gauze into Sam's hand and he pressed it to Dean's shoulder. His face had lost all color now, and Dean could see from the hazy look in his eyes that he wasn't in a good way.

He pushed Sam's hand away with his good one and held the dressing in place over his own shoulder.

"Deep breaths, Sammy," he said.

"I think I'm…"

Sam didn't finished his sentence before pitching forward and then flopped bonelessly onto his back, revealing a new, bloody wound on his chest.. Dean dropped the gauze from his own shoulder and forced himself upright with effort then pressed his working hand over Sam's wounds, his injured one hanging useless at his side.

"Get me the kit, Amy," he ordered. "I need something to stop the bleeding. I need…" His voice rose to a shout. "Castiel! I need you, dammit! We're by the river and Sam is really hurt! Come on, you son of a bitch!" All his compassion and understanding of what Castiel had done, and why, was lost as quickly as the blood pouring from his brother's chest.

There was no sound of arrival, but Castiel was suddenly there. He gasped as he took in the scene, then quickly bent to Sam and pressed his hands over the wound. Light glowed under his palm. then Sam was drawing a deep breath and opening his eyes.

"Dean?" he said, trying to sit up.

"I got you," Dean said, pressing him down to rest for a minute. "You're okay."

Castiel pressed his hand to Dean and he felt the strange sensation of flesh and skin healing, along with tingles as the feeling rushed back from his shoulder to fingers. He got to his feet and hugged Castiel, who took a step back as if expecting a punch.

"Nice timing, Cas," he said.

Sam pushed himself to a sitting position and then got to his feet.

"Sam, what are you doing here?" Castiel asked.

"He came to pull our asses out," Dean said. "Idiot, right?"

Sam huffed a laugh and gripped Castiel's shoulder. "Good to see you, man."

Castiel smiled slightly and glanced between Sam and Dean. "How do you feel?"

Dean tested the movement of his arm. "All good."

Sam unwrapped the bandage from his now-healed wound, and nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Castiel frowned. "You both lost a lot of blood."

Dean looked at Sam and shrugged. "I'm okay. You?"

"A little woozy," Sam admitted. "But it's fine. Look, Cas, we've got to go. We've got a way out with help from a reaper, but it's taken"—he glanced at his watch and his eyes widened—"almost a day to get here, and that's all the time she's given me. We've got to get back along the river. There's a spot with three boulders with a rock on top and a tree with a star carved into it. She's going to meet us there."

"You're getting out?" Castiel said doubtfully.

"We _all_ are," Sam said, casting a quick look at Amy, who was standing a little back from them, Sam's spare machete in her hand.

"We hope," she said.

"Yeah, we hope," Dean agreed. "But we've got to get there, Cas, so if you could make with Angel Air now, that'd be awesome."

Sam bent and picked up the duffel, leaving the blood-stained gauze and bandages on the ground. Castiel looked from face to face for a moment and then nodded. "Okay."

Dean felt the familiar, disconcerting lurch of flight and then they were standing beside a group of boulders and a woman was standing opposite him, a strange smile on her face.

"Billie," Sam said, his relief evident in his breathy tone. "I got them."

Billie gave Amy a pointed look and said, "You found an extra. A kitsune, am I right?"

Amy bit her lip. "Yes."

Billie shook her head. "I don't think so, Sam. That wasn't the deal."

"I know, but we need her," Sam said, his eyes imploring. "She's going to help us with Crowley."

Dean thought it was a pretty lame lie, and he was unsurprised when Billie laughed and said, "And how exactly is she going to do that?"

Sam opened his mouth and then snapped it closed again at the sound of something coming towards them.

They all looked to the sky, seeing the swarms of black smoke approaching. Dean wrenched the bag from Sam's back and pulled out the three bottles of borax. He slapped one into Sam's hand and threw the other to Castiel, uncapping the last for himself.

"Sam!" Amy said, her voice startled, and Dean saw he'd given her the bottle of borax and was lifting his machete, instead.

He had no time to scold Sam for his stupidity or to argue, instead bracing himself as the three Leviathans landed as puddles of black goo. He swept the bottle through the air, splashing one as it formed into the shape of a woman with long blonde hair.

Unable to spare attention for his family or Amy, he dodged as the Leviathan threw back its head, the human face morphing into elongated teeth and a forked tongue, and came at Dean. He swung the machete and the head landed at his feet. Kicking it away, he turned in time to see Castiel decapitate one that was looming over Amy, her blade somehow now in the Leviathan's hand.

Sam was swinging at his own, and Dean watched with satisfaction as he beheaded it and then kicked away the head that thumped against his chest and fell to the ground. He cast it a disgusted look and then turn to Billie who was watching them with an amused expression, the plea in his eyes that quickly became shock as he cried out. "Billie, behind you!"

The warning came too late. The Leviathan that had appeared behind Billie shoved its fist through her back, coming out in the center of her chest and making black goo pour from the wound. Black veins spread up her neck to her face as her mouth opened to spill with more of the ichor.

Sam lurched forward, but Dean caught his arm to hold him back. It was too late to do anything for Billie. All he could do was die with her. Castiel acted, though. He appeared behind the Leviathan and cut off its head with his angel blade. It and Billie fell together, black blood pooling beneath them.

"Oh, god," Sam breathed.

Amy cried out in anguish. "No! No, not this! I can't do it!"

Sam placed a hand on her arm and said, "I'm sorry, Amy."

Dean was sorry for them all, and angry. Thanks to that Leviathan they were all trapped here now. Sam was trapped because he'd been stupid enough to come for them. There was no one left in the world that would get them out. Bobby was gone now. No one knew where they were.

He turned away from his brother as he comforted Amy, and he bellowed his anger at the twilight sky.

"Wow, that's quite the rage you've got there," a heavily accented voice drawled.

Dean looked around and saw the man walking towards them. He had a short beard and was wearing rough, workman's clothes. Dean could see no outward signs of what kind of monster he was, but he knew he had to be one. He was one of only two humans in this place, and there was no way he was an angel looking like that.

He lifted his blade and the man came to a stop. "You could kill me if you wanted," he said. "I'm mighty outnumbered, especially with your angel backup dancer, but you might want to listen to me first."

"What do you want?" Sam asked. "What are you?"

"Vampire," Castiel said in a low voice.

Sam lifted his own blade.

The man nodded towards Castiel and said, "The angel's not wrong. I am a vampire, but I'm something else, too."

"What?" Dean growled.

The man grinned. "I'm the guy with a way to get you out of this place."

Dean's heart sped its pace. "You can get us out?"

"For a price, yes." He walked forward, hand extended to Dean, who took it automatically and shook it. "Name's Benny. And I'm your new best friend…"

Dean felt Sam stir anxiously at his side, and he said his name softly as he considered the vampire's promise and allowed himself to hope.

* * *

**So… Benny, too. I didn't plan to include him in this story, but temptation proved too much. I love the guy. **

**Until next time…**

**Clowns or Midgets xxx**


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you so much Captainhaterade for beta'ing and pointing out the little things I missed. Thank you VegasGranny and Ncsupnatfan for being there when I need you, powering through the chapters, and being willing to keep up with my crazy writing pace so I am never left waiting.**

* * *

_**Epilogue**_

"You sure you can't just mojo a grave open for us, Cas?" Dean asked as he tossed another shovelful of dirt out of the grave.

"Positive," Castiel said. "When my father gifted us with abilities, he wasn't thinking of grave desecration."

"Shame," Sam said, swiping the sweat from his brow with his sleeve.

Benny chuckled. "You're doing a good job, fellas. Don't stop now. You're almost done."

"At least your grave was shallow," Dean said.

Benny chuckled. "Yeah, my nest wasn't thinking of predators and dignity when they hid my body. We should all be grateful."

Sam peered up over the grave and said, "You could take an extra turn at digging, you know. You're stronger than us, what with the vampire thing."

"I could," Benny agreed. "But you seem to have so much more skill at this than I do. If what you told me in Purgatory is right, you should have. You've been digging up graves most of your lives."

Sam scowled and returned to his digging.

Dean was tiredly amused. Sam and Benny had sparked against each other from the beginning, neither taking a liking to the other. Sam didn't trust Benny because he was a vampire, even though he and Amy had returned to their old BFF ways while they'd crossed Purgatory to the portal. Benny had said he wasn't drinking human blood in the years before he died, having found value in humanity after falling in love, but Sam had asked how many years before that he had killed people to feed? He could forgive Amy for killing to save her son, but not Benny for killing to live.

Dean probably would have felt the same, once, probably not even that long ago, but he liked Benny. There was something about him that Dean thought made him a pretty decent person. And they'd had plenty of time to bond crossing Purgatory in search of the portal. Castiel hadn't been able to fly them there since he didn't know where it was, and they'd not wanted him to go off alone to search for it. There were still plenty of Leviathans that wanted his head. While Sam and Amy had been sharing stories of their lives and Amy's son, Benny had been telling Dean the story of his life and the woman he'd loved.

Castiel had formed no more opinion of him than gratitude for finding a way for Dean and Sam to get out. Though he had hidden it until the last moment, he'd not been planning to come out with them. Cas apparently figured Purgatory was some kind of fitting punishment for what he had done to the world and Heaven. Sam and Dean had disagreed and had essentially shoved him through the portal ahead of them. Dean was pretty sure that was going to end in a conversation soon, but it seemed Castiel was content to wait for Benny and Amy to be settled first. They'd gone to Louisiana first to find Benny's grave and, after Dean had freed him from the spell that trapped his soul in him and put him back in his body, Castiel had brought them to Montana to Amy's grave.

Dean's shovel scraped wood and he sighed with relief. "We're here. About damn time."

He and Sam scraped their shovels over the top of the coffin and then Sam pulled open the casket, revealing the remains of Amy Pond. Unlike Benny, who had been a skeleton, Amy was still human shaped, though withered and shrunken like a mummy. Sam swallowed hard as he looked down at her and said, "Okay. Here we go."

He climbed out of the grave and then offered Dean a hand to get out. When they were both standing beside the grave, Sam took the small blade from his pocket and cut across his forearm where the light of Amy's soul pulsed.

"Nearly there, Amy," he said, which was much kinder than what Dean had said when Benny had been burning under his skin.

Sam tipped his arm and the light poured down from him, along with some blood, and spread over Amy's remains as he said the words that had brought Benny back to life. "Anima corpori... Fuerit corpus... Totem resurgent."

He stumbled as the last of the light left him, and Dean recognized the lightheadedness he'd felt after doing his own spell. He steadied Sam and gave Castiel a pointed look. Castiel healed the wound on his arm and then bent down and hauled Amy up as she rose to her feet, still standing in the grave.

"How do you feel?" Sam asked her.

Amy flexed her arms, her eyes bright with happiness. "I feel alive."

"That was the point," Benny said.

"Can you take me to Jacob?" she asked Castiel.

He nodded. "Of course."

"Me and Sammy will deal with the grave," Dean said. "Don't want people thinking there's been a grave robbery and coming for Jacob with the news only to find you."

Amy smiled at him and then turned her attention to Sam. "I'll be in touch," she said.

"Take care of yourself," Sam said then turned to Castiel. "Jacob's with a group in Lincoln, Nebraska. The Palmer Brothers Funeral Home."

"Okay," Castiel said.

"I'll come with you," Benny said. "I love a family reunion, and Nebraska seems as good a place to start a new life as any."

Dean shook his offered hand. "Be good, Benny."

Benny nodded. "Sure, no problem. And if I don't, I can expect to see you coming for me with machetes some time soon, right?"

"Yes," Sam said stiffly.

Benny winked at him and raised a hand in farewell before Castiel swept him and Amy away.

Sam started to shovel the dirt back into the grave and Dean watched him for a moment before saying. "Thanks for coming for me, Sammy. It was dumb and you almost got your ass trapped there for eternity, but it… I appreciate it, okay?"

"You would have done the same for me," Sam stated.

"And I would have been just as damn dumb."

Sam chuckled.

They worked without speaking for a while, the only sounds the scrape of the shovels and the thuds of dirt hitting the empty coffin. Only when Castiel returned with a greeting of, "They're together now," did Sam speak.

"You think they'll be okay?"

Castiel considered his answer carefully. "I think so. They are both aware that this is their second, impossible chance."

"Speaking of second chances," Dean said. "Crowley has run out of them. We're getting Kevin back and I am ending that limey bastard before he can cause real trouble with whatever he's found."

"Agreed," Sam said. "We'll finish up here and go get the car."

Dean's head snapped up. He couldn't believe he'd not thought of it before. "Yeah, where is my baby?"

Sam bit his lip and averted his eyes. "I left it in a parking garage in Missouri."

Dean glowered. "Tell me it was a good one or I'll kick your ass."

"It has security," Sam said.

Dean nodded. "Okay, but if it's been towed, you're paying to get it out."

Sam grinned. "Sure."

"I think we have bigger problems that getting your car back," Castiel said.

Dean frowned. "Yeah, we know, but we'll get Kevin back."

"I was thinking of Death," Castiel said. "Thanks to us, one of his reapers was killed. I don't imagine he will be happy about that."

Sam groaned. "I didn't even think… Dammit."

Dean clapped him on the shoulder. "We'll fix it, Sammy."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "We're going to fix Death?"

"No," Dean amended, "Him, we'll beg for forgiveness. But the rest we can take care of. Besides, what's life without a little danger?"

Sam shook his head with a soft laugh and Castiel answered, his voice considering. "I don't know, but I imagine it's more peaceful than what we're used to."

Dean shrugged. Castiel was right, and peace would be nice, but it wasn't in the cards for them. Whatever was coming would come and they would have to face it. They had something in their favor, though. They were together again.

That was enough for Dean.

* * *

**So… They're all out. Amy will have her son again, Benny will be there for a while, and Sam and Dean can get back to the family business with help from Castiel. **

**Thank you for coming on this ride with me :-)**

**Until the next story…**

**Clowns or Midgets xxx**


End file.
